Hurt
by Yuka Himawari Knight
Summary: Pain. Redemption. Love. Hate. It all comes together in the pages of this story. Evangeline thought she was in Hell. Turns out she was, but not of the regular sort. Pixies, fairies, and one very special man.


**My Obsession**

Stars flashed before my eyes as Father's fist met my face. The pain blossomed, yet I didn't feel it. All I knew was that I was sprawled out on the floor, spitting out blood. Father's menacing figure stood above me, breathing anger. All 6'5" of him shook with fury, and I knew what was to come. **_**

My name is Evangeline, and I am seventeen years old. I like French Vanilla ice cream, the sound of crickets and running my fingers over silk ribbons. I'm a bookworm who knows things most people would never bother looking up. I dislike liver, tattle-tales and people who chew with their mouth open. I live with my mother and my father in a ramshackle house in the middle of nowhere. Today is when my story begins.

We had an assignment at school, a very big one at that. I had spent many a night awake into the early hours of the morning working on it. I was certain I would get perfect on it- I had to get perfect on it- but when it came back with a 95 instead of a 100, all Hell broke loose. I was forced to show them my mark. "Evangeline, where's your assignment?" asked Mother asked when I walked in the door. Mother saw it first. Father was in the living room, watching football when I came home. Initially, she was silent. Then slowly, surely, she turned bright red and began to scream profanities at me. Normally I can handle my mother. She was such a slight thing, you couldn't be scared of her for the most part. Until she started hurling pots and pans in my direction and I barely managed to dodge them all. Then Father heard the commotion, asked what was going on and you know the rest.

"What's going on, Meredith?" he asked my mother, anger beginning to show on his face. My mother showed him my assignment in answer. In two giant strides, Father had crossed the tiny kitchen and had me by the hair. He shook me, and I felt hair being torn out. Then he released me and the first punch was thrown.

"What is this?" he roared, as my crumpled assignment was thrown down at me. "I'm sorry," I coughed. "I tried." The last part I could barely get out as foot met stomach and stomach lost. All the wind was knocked out of me and I lay there panting like a fish out of water.

"You little bitch! I taught you to do better than this! What have you got to say for yourself?" I finally felt the pain and it was overwhelming. Tears began to flow down my face and saliva down my chin as fear overcame me. Then the blows began to rain down on my small body and I began to scream. It hurt...it hurt so badly. The pain wasn't a separate entity, I _was_ the pain itself. I had become so accustomed to it, we had become one. And it was horrifying.

I still remember when my father first started beating me. I was ten years old, 7 years ago today. I had broken a vase by accident. I had simply bumped into it when I wasn't looking where I was going. It seemed to be falling in slow motion before it smashed into a thousand pieces on the hardwood floor of the upstairs hallway. My father had heard the crash and came stomping up the stairs. He was drunk. I could smell the whiskey before he even reached me. Next thing I knew, I was being slammed repeatedly against the wall. No words were exchanged between he and I, only pain. Then he let go of me and I fell on the broken shards of the vase, slicing my hands open. I still bear the scars to this day.

I don't know how long the beating went on for. It seemed like forever. I seemed to have passed out during it, whether from an overload of pain or due to a blow to the head, I don't know. What I did know, however, was blood. Blood that was steadily leaking from a gash on my side, and dying the carpet around me crimson, to match the sunset that was taking place outside. I knew I needed help and soon. Slowly, carefully, I unwound my bruised limbs and painstakingly dragged myself upright. My parents were nowhere in sight and the house was quiet, so I tried to make my way towards the front door as fast as I could through the kitchen. One hand pressed against the bleeding wound, the other pressed against the wall for support, I got closer to the kitchen one small step at a time. I left a blood trail behind me, but I didn't care. The house was filthy already.

"C'mon, Eva, you can do it..." I told myself. I chanted this over and over until I made it to the front door. It felt like a million pounds, but I managed to get the creaky screen door open, leaving a puddle of blood on the dirty linoleum. My next goal was to make it to the street. It seemed so far away. The gravel driveway stretched out before me, looking like it was endless in my weakened state. The car was gone, so I assumed my parents went out for more liquor. We lived so far away from the rest of civilization, I could never walk up the road to find help. Our phone lines had been cut off the month before, since the bills were constantly going unpaid. Calling for help was out of the question. I didn't know what to do. I fell to my knees and screamed out my agony at the heavens, asking them why things were this way. The exertion caused more blood to leak out, and I began to feel dizzy.

"I think it's time to die," I told myself. But where? I had an idea, but I didn't know if I could get there. Behind my house was an old ravine, with a large bush growing over it to form a roof of sorts. I could never understand how that bush could grow that way, but it did. You could crawl under it and it sheltered you from prying eyes. I often hid there when my parents were roaring drunk, even in the dead of winter. I even found it by accident when I was fleeing my parents' drunken fury and fell in. Surprisingly, no snow ever got in. I decided it was worth the effort to go there to die. Once again, I dragged myself to my feet, and started to walk. I didn't have any control over my feet. They'd walked this path so many times, they knew the way without me telling them where to go.

Soon enough, I was in the backyard and making a beeline for the ravine. My legs cut through overgrown grass, the plant scratching against my legs in some weird harmony. It brought me back to this world. It brought relief and in some strange way, it brought me hope. Hope that I wouldn't bleed to death, that maybe things will get better and I'll be happy again.

The ravine wasn't really a ravine. It was more like some deep ditch, or a trench like those used in World War I. Unceremoniously, I crawled underneath the bush and I fell in, and lay there panting on the hard packed dirt. My vision was beginning to fade, my head felt light, all I wanted to do was sleep. "Sleep sounds nice..." I whispered to myself, and my eyes closed immediately. I figured death would overcome me while I was out.

I dreamt. I know this for sure. I know this because I opened up my eyes and I was standing upright in front of a full-length, cracked mirror. I was naked, but the fresh bruises and the wound was gone. All that was left were the scars...and the permanent bruises around my neck. Gingerly, my eyes made their way from the top of my head down to my toes. Pale skin like porcelain was my delicate shell. Short brown hair that fell to my ear lobes covered my head. Big brown eyes portrayed sadness from my reflection. Three beauty marks on my lower back marred my skin in a perfect line. I looked nothing like my dark father, with his black hair and near-black eyes. I looked more like my mother. During happier times, we both had the same little half smile. But all these things didn't keep my attention. What did were the bruises on my neck and the memories they had.

Nobody believed me when I told them my father had raped me. Said I inflicted these bruises on myself to get attention. But that wasn't the case. I was eleven years old when it happened. My parents' drinking had only gotten worse over the year since they lost their jobs and went on welfare. They were drunk every single night while I was hungry. It was on one of these nights when it happened. I was hiding in my room, with my stomach growling and the rest of my body trembling when I heard it. The footsteps banging up the stairs and getting closer and closer towards my room. Then my door flew open and there stood my intoxicated father. He wasn't too steady on his feet, as he was swaying slightly. It took a moment for him to get his bearings and focus on me, who was cowering on a corner of my bed. The next little bit I knew came in flashes. My clothes disappearing, the sound of ripping fabric, my father on top of me, his fingers wrapping around my throat and then the pain. I couldn't understand why he was doing this to me. At my age, I knew what sex was, and I knew what rape was, too. I understood that my father was raping me and the idea was terrible. But here it was, happening to me right then. After he was done, he left not a person, but a husk of a person on that bed of mine. I had never been the same since, and the bruises he left behind serve as a reminder of what he did to me everyday.

I stared into that cracked mirror with a look of longing etched on my features. But longing for what? _Freedom, _a voice whispered in my head. But that wasn't my voice I heard. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. It scared me, and I didn't like it.

"Who are you?" I asked aloud.

_Your salvation, _said the voice.

"I gave up on that a long time ago. It's too late now."

_It's never too late, my dear._

Those last words resonated inside my head and stayed there. Then I felt myself begin to wake up. Apparently sleep didn't turn into death. I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment at the realization. Then it occurred to me that I had been rolled onto my back and my shirt had been pulled up to reveal the jagged edges of my wound. I opened my eyes fully and forced myself to look up. I was floored by what I saw. Kneeling next to me was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Long blonde hair framed her oval face. Almond eyes in the most luxurious shade of green took in what she saw of me. Even in the dim light, I couldn't help but notice her pale blue skin. But...light shouldn't be able to get in here. I always had to bring a flashlight. Then it hit me. She was glowing. Despite my groggy eyes, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The woman- so beautiful and radiant she was- took a strand from that gorgeous hair and plucked a needle from her clothes. She threaded that needle with that hair, and then proceeded to carefully sew my wound close. There was no pain. Once again, I had stopped feeling pain a long time ago. The woman's deft hands brought the edges of my injury together in quick time. The bleeding had stopped, but I still didn't feel any better. In fact, I was beginning to drift off again. For awhile, I fought to stay awake. Then I felt the brush of fingers in my hair and the haunting melody of the woman's singing fill my ears. It took a moment to realize what was going on. She was singing me a lullaby to help me sleep. Eventually, I gave in and was sucked into a void of oblivion.

Oblivion didn't last long. In fact, all I did was blink, and I found myself on my back in the middle of a field. The sweet smell of grass tickled my nose, a cool breeze brushed against my skin and in the distance, the lullaby continued to waft through the air. I closed my eyes once more and breathed deeply. Slowly, I opened them again and looked up at the lavender sky. Except it wasn't lavender anymore. Instead, scenes from my life flashed before me. I concluded that I have very weird dreams, and watched my first steps, my first words, the first time I rode a bike, my first kiss...

Tears rose to my eyes as I watched all the happy memories. Memories I had forgotten about after my parents lost their jobs and started drinking. I longed for the present to be like the past. But I knew that was impossible, and settled for watching the happier moments until my dream world began to swirl into a mess of pictures and and colour and singing. I had the sensation of being woken up, and the next thing I knew, I was back in the ravine. I knew by the lack of light in there that night had fallen. I was startled by a touch on my cheek. The beautiful woman ran a soft finger down the side of my face.

"Would you like to come with me?" she asked. My throat felt dry but I managed to croak out my answer. "Yes." I thought I saw the woman smile gently at me in the near darkness. "Very well," she said, and easily scooped me up into her arms. Then things were moving in high speed. We were out of the ravine into the cold night air in a flash. The light in the house were on, and I could see dark shapes moving inside, but that didn't matter. We were headed in the opposite direction, into the woods that surrounded our property. I didn't hear the woman's feet touch the ground; I wondered if they even were to begin with. Trees flew by at what felt like the speed of light. The wind bit at my face but I didn't care. Every once in awhile, there was a flash of bright light and the blurry colours zooming past us changed. Green, to yellow, to black, and finally to pale, pale blue. I didn't understand that, so once more, I closed my eyes and waited for the destination to arrive.

It didn't seem to take very long to get there. Where "there" is, I had no idea. But as the saying goes, we definitely weren't in Kansas anymore. It seemed like we'd stepped into the pages of a story book. We were very deep in the woods, but these weren't the trees in my backyard. We were extremely far from the hellhole I call home. The woman still held me in her arms as she carried me through what I could only describe as a utopia. Giant trees made up the skyscrapers of this place. Little windows were built into the trunks and they were lit up with soft light: houses, I assumed they were. Glowing orbs that floated in the air provided more illumination. It gave the place an eternal twilight. Above me, winged beings flitted here and there. The ground beneath our feet was a soft bed of fallen leaves. And the air...it smelled so sweet, you can only describe it one way. It smelled of love.

Many of those winged beings flew down to greet us at our arrival, and I was taken aback by their appearance. They were the same pale blue as my companion, with hair in colours ranging from light pink to deep mahogany. And the wings...two shimmery wings sprouted from their backs and they glistened in the twilight. For the first time, I dared to look up at the woman and barely contained my shock that she had those same two wings sprouting from her back too. "What are you?" I whispered. She glanced down at me and smiled. "I'm a fairy," she replied, and continued walking forward. Where, I didn't know. She just kept walking and walking, more fairies -man, it still feels weird to say that- came down to greet the woman. I found out her name was Jayde.

Eventually, we arrived at what turned out to be our true destination. We had broken through the city of trees into a giant clearing. In the centre of that clearing was the largest oak tree I had ever seen. Come to think of it, everything here was ten, a hundred times larger than what they would be back home. Even the clearing was massive. This time, Jayde didn't bother to walk. Instead, she flew. With me in her arms. And I'm terrified of heights. I nearly pissed my shorts. But we made it. Made it deep within the branches of the oak trees, where it was dark except for her glowing skin and the skin of other fairies who sat on branches, observing us as we went past.

"Where are we?" I asked Jayde, glancing up at her apprehensively. "My home is called Gra, and this tree is the Palace of **Cairdeas," she answered. I blinked thoughtfully. ****_Gra...Cairdeas...love...friendship..., _****I thought. Gaelic names for a Gaelic species, very appropriate in ****my opinion. Soon we reached the centre of the tree's branches, to a little door with a platform outside it. ****Jayde landed on it and set me down on my feet. I was still a bit shaky, so Jayde took my arm and led ****me towards the door. She opened it to reveal a set of spiralling stairs that led down. In we went, then down, down, down. Not only was I terrified of heights, I was also claustrophobic. ****_Today hasn't been very good, _****I thought. ****_Then again, it never is._**

** Finally we reached the bottom of the stairs, deep within the trunk of the tree. It had opened up into a cavern, and it looked to me to be a throne room, since this was a palace. Ornate carvings were inlaid into the walls. More of those floating orbs hovered around the ceiling. Off to the sides were more fairies, their clothes made up of gossamer fabric in pastel colours and their long hair (present on both males and females) were braided with the silky ribbons that I love so much. At the far end of the room was a simple wooden high-backed chair. On it, there sat the most handsome man I had ever seen. Present were the wings of the fairies, but this man was different. Instead of his skin being pale blue, it was as pale as mine. His hair was raven black but his eyes were a startling grey. But on his face, running down the left side of it, was a scar. It was all that deep, but it was deep enough that I could see it from where Jayde and I stood. Then I felt her give me a small nudge, and we began to walk forward. Towards that handsome man, past the scrutinizing eyes of those around us. I felt them bore into my skin. **

** We had crossed the polished floor in what felt like an eternity. Jayde curtsied, and I did the same, hoping I could try to fit in. I looked over the man in the chair. He didn't look much older than me, but he emanated an air of wisdom. His lithe body was slouched forward slightly, with one leg crossed over the other. Slender fingers traced the smooth wood of the chair's armrests. His eyes wandered up and down me, but not in the same way the other fairies did, or in a perverted way either. He seemed to be taking in my physical condition. Finally, he spoke. **

** "Welcome back, Lady Jayde," he said. His voice had a musical quality to it. Jayde gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Is this the young woman you've been keeping an eye on?" Once again, she nodded. The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then stood up and gracefully stepped towards me. He was considerably taller than me. Immediately, he lifted up the side of my bloodstained shirt before I could stop him, and took in the stitched wound. Jayde's hair was holding up very well. He let my shirt fall back down before he looked up at Jayde in question. "Her father stabbed her for good measure," she said. I instantly thought of the penknife Father always carried with him.**

** Tentatively, the man took my face in one of his hands, studying my features. "So, you brought me a new bride, hmm?" he asked her jokingly. Jayde rolled her eyes. "Your Majesty..." she sighed. I barely contained my shock. I should've known that this man was the King. He looked too regal to be of any regular status, if you could call a fairy regular.**

** "What is your name, young one?" he addressed me. I gulped. "Evangeline, sire," I choked out. He smiled reassuringly and I felt myself relax. "Please, call me Eldan." I nodded. Before anymore words could be exchanged, the sound of running footsteps behind us caught our attention and I turned just in time to see another fairy run up to us and throw herself onto Jayde. She caught the new arrival, and swung her around. I caught a menacing glance that the new fairy threw me. **

** "Welcome back, my love!" she exclaimed, as she planted a light kiss on Jayde's lips. Jayde returned it and smiled. "Thank you, Talia," she replied. Frankly, I was taken aback by the public display of affection. Sure, I'd heard of lesbians, but I'd never knowingly seen one. **

** Eldan smiled warmly at the new arrival. I stood there with my mouth gaping open. Jayde gently closed my mouth for me. "Evangeline, this is Talia. She is my lover," Jayde said. I looked at Talia and ****gave a terse nod. Talia didn't do anything. The king seemed to sense the tension between us and coughed. "I see you've been through quite a lot," he said to me. I stared at my shoes and gave a nondescript shrug. "How do you feel like living with us?" My head snapped up as the audience gave a gasp in unison. "Objection!" came a voice from within the crowd. I turned towards the sound of the voice, and from the back of the crowd nearest me, out strode an older male fairy. He looked about as old as my father- who is forty-eight- but he was bald and was covered in scars. He was muscular and he looked like he could snap my neck like a toothpick. **


End file.
